


The Slytherin Series

by crochetaway



Series: Drabbles and OneShots [53]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Eavesdropping, Awful First Meet, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Tattoos, Mistaken Identity, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2019-08-13 23:29:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crochetaway/pseuds/crochetaway
Summary: A collection of drabbles from the Draco's Den FB group Roll-a-Drabble monthly event. All works featuring a variety of Slytherins in a variety of settings and partners.





	1. The Dissolution and Arrangement of a Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in October 2018. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Astoria/Ron and accidental eavesdropping. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

Astoria wound her way through the aisles of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes slowly. She picked up a few items, looked at them disinterestedly for a moment and then put them back again.  _Where was he?_  Ron had always been so prompt before. She'd come into the store, he'd spot her and whisk her away to his brother's apartment above the shop. They'd spend the afternoon fucking like rabbits, and then part ways. It was the perfect arrangement. And one she controlled entirely. Which suited her just fine.

She knew Draco was out fucking anything that moved, so why shouldn't she also get some on the side? Scorpius was grown and gone. He'd moved out of Malfoy Manor, leaving her there to rattle around by herself. Well, she had just had to take matters into her own hands. And she had when she'd stumbled across one Ron Weasley one afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron.

He'd been surprisingly funny. She didn't remember him being funny from school. Then one drink had turned into four and they had stumbled to a room upstairs. For weeks afterward, Astoria had been terrified that they had been seen. Her prenuptial agreement had been explicit. If she were caught being unfaithful, Draco wouldn't owe her a dime. The misogynist hippogriff shit was that Draco could fuck all he wanted. But Astoria couldn't. Which really meant she just had to be more careful.

After Ron had sent her a fifteenth owl, she finally responded by letting him know she needed more discretion in the future. Ron agreed and proposed the current plan. Which was perfect for Astoria. Or it had been, when Ron was around.

She wandered toward the back of the store and thought she heard voices. A glance over her shoulder told her that Verity was minding the till and not paying a lick of attention to Astoria. She moved closer to the back stockroom and knew she could hear Ron's voice, she just couldn't figure out what he was saying.

The back stockroom door flew open then and Astoria turned her back quickly, pretending to examine something on the shelf in front of her.

"... don't fucking care, Ronald," Hermione Granger-Weasley hissed. "You either end it or we're fucking done."

"Come on, Hermione," Ron insisted. "Don't be like that. There's nothing going on!"

"That's not what George says. Or Verity for that matter. I'm not a fucking idiot, Ron!"

Astoria froze. They were talking about her. Fuck. Did Hermione know who it was that Ron was cheating on her with? Was she about to get called out? She reached a hand into her handbag and pulled out her wand as slowly as possible. She tried to make her movements as small as possible to avoid attracting attention her way. She had no way of knowing whether she'd been spotted by the arguing couple or not.

"Hermione, I know you aren't an idiot. I'll end it. I'm sorry. Please don't leave me. I-I couldn't live without you," Ron whispered.

Hermione sighed heavily and Astoria felt her heart clench. She didn't think she had feelings for Ron, but it still hurt to hear that he would rather stay with his wife than her. The truth was, she was happier with Ron than she had ever been with Draco. And if Ron had given her any indication that he would marry her, she would divorce Draco in a heartbeat. She stole her heart for the coming confrontation with Ron. She almost felt bad for him, he was going to be having a very bad day.

"No, Ron. Actually, I'm done. I… I can't do this again. Not after the mess with Katie. I'll be out of the house by the weekend," Hermione said. Astoria heard footsteps walk away and she stayed as still as possible, hoping Ron hadn't seen her yet. But, of course, he had.

"Astoria?" Ron said from behind her.

Astoria whirled around her wand still in her hand to see Ron looking tired and drained.

"Hi, Ron."

"How much did you hear?" Ron asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

"All of it," Astoria whispered. "Listen, I think this needs to be done."

She turned to go, but Ron grabbed her arm just above the elbow, stopping her.

"Astoria, wait," Ron said, shuffling his feet.

"Ron, it's fine. I knew what this was when we started it. A bit of fun. I'm not upset, truly. Go win your wife back."

"That's just it. I don't want Hermione. Not really. Godric, what a mess," he sighed and released her elbow. He ran his hands down his face and Astoria felt the need to comfort him but held back. He was obviously lying to someone, she just wasn't sure who.

"Ron, I heard you beg for your wife. You don't have to tell me pretty lies," Astoria said as kindly as she could manage. He truly was having an awful day, and despite her hurt feelings, she didn't want to hurt him more.

Ron stepped closer to her, placing a hand on either side of her waist. Twenty minutes ago, this would have made Astoria's heart beat faster. And now, well her heart  _was_  beating faster, but also, she was just scared he was going to do something that would hurt her more in the long run.

"That's just it," Ron explained. "I begged for Hermione because it's what's expected of me, but when she told me she was done? I've never been so relieved in all my life. It's you I want Astoria. Godric, you are all I've wanted for months. If I thought you'd leave Malfoy, I would propose on the spot," Ron breathed. His forehead was pressed against hers and Astoria could taste his minty breath in her mouth. She couldn't help herself, she pressed her lips to his and Ron responded immediately.

"Yes," she whispered pulling back just enough to get the word out.

"Yes?" Ron asked, a look of confusion on his face.

Astoria grinned. "Yes, I accept that backhanded marriage proposal. I'll file paperwork with the Ministry today."

"Fucking hell, yes," Ron hissed and pressed his lips more fiercely to hers. Astoria giggled as he tried wrestling her out of her cloak.

"Let's at least make it to the back room," she muttered against his mouth.

Ron hauled her up over his shoulder and turned on his heel. Astoria laughed as he banged through the door to the stockroom, locking it the moment it was shut. She decided that the moment she left Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, she would be heading to her solicitor's office. Then Ron kissed her again as he set her atop a worktop and she decided not to think for a little while.


	2. Couplage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in January 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Daphne Greengrass/Hermione Granger and mistaken for a couple. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

The first time it happened, the bartender had suggested a gay bar for afters down the street, Daphne and Hermione had laughed it off.  Sure, they were close. They were roommates and best friends, why wouldn’t they spend all of their time together? It seemed silly not to, especially considering the lack of eligible bachelors that the pair of them hadn’t yet dated in the wizarding world. 

Daphne, the pure-blood princess had been betrothed to Theo Nott throughout their time at Hogwarts. When Theo’s father died in the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo had burned their contract. Daphne liked Theo, but Theo liked Blaise, so they stayed friends. Hermione had tried dating around quite a bit, Ron, then Draco, then Marcus Flint of all people. But nothing really lasted. They were all too dull for her. When Harry and Ginny finally got married and gently told Hermione to find a new place to live, Daphne had invited her in. She had the room after all. Her family had set her up with a large townhouse off of Diagon Alley. 

Hermione and Daphne began spending all of their free time together. Shopping and adventuring in the Muggle world were their favorite activities. Hermione hated shopping, but she swore that Daphne’s fashion sense had been what helped push her to the forefront for her latest promotion in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 

Daphne had never spent much time in the Muggle world growing up, so it all fascinated her and Hermione loved showing Daphne all of her favorite haunts. And finding new ones to explore. 

The second time it happened, they were in the Muggle world. They visited the Eye of London and Daphne had implored a Muggle to take a photo of them.

“You two make a cute couple,” the Muggle woman smiled at them as she snapped their picture. It was a picture Daphne adored because they both looked so surprised in it. 

The third time it happened, they were at a swanky restaurant in Diagon Alley. Hermione had been wanting to try it, but reservations were hard to come by. Daphne had pulled a few strings and was able to secure a reservation that week, instead of three months from now. They’d both dressed up into cocktail dresses and the maître d' led them to a most romantic table in the corner. 

“For a lovely couple,” he said with a grin as he placed their menus on the table and held out first Hermione’s chair and then Daphne’s.

“Do we really seem like a couple?” Hermione asked Daphne, the spark of laughter in her eye warmed Daphne’s heart.

“Apparently, that’s the third time!” Daphne laughed.

“Well, in that case, we should treat it like a date,” Hermione said primly. 

“I booked the restaurant, so my treat,” Daphne nodded her agreement. “You can buy drinks afterward.”

Hermione chuckled. “Deal.”

Dinner was lovely and delicious. Daphne and Hermione had laughed their way through four courses and two bottles of wine. By the time they were ready to leave, they were both rather too inebriated to go elsewhere for drinks.

“Home?” Hermione suggested.

“I’ll take a raincheck for the after-dinner drinks we’re missing,” Daphne smirked.

“Deal,” Hermione said and looped her arm through Daphne’s. She Side-Along-Apparated them home and because of the drinks, they both stumbled just inside their front hall.

“Sorry about that,” Hermione mumbled as she grabbed Daphne’s arms to keep her upright. Hermione had propped herself up against their front door to keep her own feet beneath her.

“It’s alright,” Daphne said. She had landed against Hermione’s chest and found her face-to-face with her roommate. 

“You have pretty eyes,” Hermione mumbled. Daphne tore her gaze away from Hermione’s lips to see her eyes.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Daphne breathed. Hermione nodded, closing her eyes and Daphne pressed her lips to Hermione’s soft ones. The kiss was soft and gentle. Hermione’s arms wrapped around Daphne and Daphne had her hands in Hermione’s hair, directing their kiss. Hermione’s tongue tapped at Daphne’s lips, begging for entrance and Daphne opened her mouth. She almost couldn’t believe she was kissing her roommate and that it was turning her on. Her nipples pebbled and her knickers grew damp as their kissing grew fevered.

“Upstairs?” Hermione muttered, breaking the kiss and trailing her lips along Daphne’s jaw.

“Yes,” Daphne hissed as she palmed one of Hermione’s breasts. Hermione’s nipple hardened further under Daphne’s ministrations and suddenly, Daphne couldn’t wait to get her out of the dress. 

They stumbled upstairs, pausing to kiss and undress each other. Daphne’s room was closest, so they kicked the door open and collapsed onto Daphne’s bed completely naked. Hermione flipped Daphne to her back and straddled her waist.

“So fucking gorgeous,” Hermione murmured as she cupped Daphne’s breasts. “I’ve always thought so.”

Daphne bit her lip as Hermione pinched her nipples. She slid her hands along Hermione’s thighs until she reached the small thatch of hair where her thighs met. 

“You’re dripping,” Daphne said as she slid her fingers through Hermione’s slick folds.

“Fuck,” Hermione grunted as Daphne twirled her fingers around her clit. “You make me so hot.”

Daphne grinned up at Hermione and speared her with two of her fingers. Hermione groaned, and tossed her head back, her fingers tightening on Daphne’s nipples. She found a rhythm Hermione liked and fingered her, swirling her thumb around Hermione’s clit every third stroke.

“Daphne,” Hermione gasped as she came. Fluid dripped over Daphne’s fingers and Hermione collapsed on top of her, trapping Daphne’s arm awkwardly. “That was bloody brilliant,” Hermione murmured. 

“You looked gorgeous as you came,” Daphne said. “Like a warrior princess riding my fingers.”

Hermione laughed. “Your turn,” she murmured huskily and pressed her lips to Daphne’s. Daphne groaned as Hermione kissed her deeply and then broke the kiss to trail her lips over Daphne’s skin. Hermione’s hands were everywhere, on her stomach, on her breasts, pinching her nipples, sliding through Daphne’s folds. 

“I’m going to try something,” Hermione murmured against Daphne’s neck. Slowly, she slid her body down Daphne’s. She kissed and licked and sucked on Daphne’s nipples until Daphne was arching her back and crying out, desperate for some friction to ease the ache in her core.

“Hermione, please!” Daphne cried out. She was so close to the edge that she felt one touch of Hermione’s fingers against her clit would push her over.

Hermione grinned and kissed her stomach. Then she settled her shoulders between Daphne’s thighs, throwing one thigh over her shoulder.

“Oh, fuck, oh Salazar,” Daphne murmured over and over again as Hermione tentatively kissed her nether lips. When Hermione’s tongue touched Daphne’s clit, she thought for sure she had died and gone to heaven. “Hermione!” Daphne gasped. Hermione licked and sucked and fucked and Daphne was a mess. She had one hand wound deep in Hermione’s hair, holding her face to Daphne’s cunt. The other was rolling and pinching her nipples and her head tossed. She was close, so close and she couldn’t stop her hips from bucking into Hermione. Later, she would be embarrassed by the way she lost control, but at that moment, she didn’t care. She just wanted to ride Hermione’s face until she finally, finally came with a tightening of her body and a whimper on her lips. 

“That was fun,” Hermione said, licking her lips. She’d propped herself on her elbows between Daphne’s legs. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Daphne groaned, burying her face in her hands. What had they done?

Hermione leaned down and kissed Daphne’s cunt again, causing her core to clench. Then she kissed and licked her way back up Daphne’s body before slanting her lips over Daphne’s and thrusting her tongue in Daphne’s mouth. Daphne wrapped a leg around Hermione and groaned at the taste of herself. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” Hermione murmured against her lips. “I’m not. I kept wondering why nothing was working out with any of the wizards I dated. Now I know.” She kissed Daphne again. Daphne wrapped her arms around Hermione and rolled them over. She was still so bloody turned on.

“Now, it’s my turn,” Daphne said as she bent and took one of Hermione’s nipples in her mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Hermione moaned in a voice so sexy that Daphne decided right then she wanted to hear that voice in her bed every night.

_ ~Fin~ _


	3. The Tattoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in February 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Salazar Slytherin/Alicia Spinnet and Magical Tattoos. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut. And the goal is to be between 100-1k words. This one turned into a proper one-shot at over 2,300 words!**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

When the antique looking S first showed up on Alicia Spinnet's left hip, she paid it no mind. Magical tattoos were rare, but not unheard of. Besides, she was only fifteen. She had no interest in figuring out who had the matching one, at least not yet. The fact that it was on her hip and not someplace more prominent only worked in her favor. She was able to keep it hidden from her roommates Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson. Her knickers hid the mark well and it was so light against her dark skin that unless someone was looking for it, they likely wouldn't notice it.

When she turned eighteen, the S began to change. It was still ornate, but now, Alicia was sure that it was actually forming a snake. Which was worrisome with the way Voldemort was taking over the war. Alicia had gotten a job at Quality Quidditch Supplies. She wanted to play Quidditch professionally but decided it was prudent to keep her head down for now. When the Ministry fell the fall after her seventh year, she knew she had made the right choice. She could only hope that Voldemort and his Death Eaters would be defeated soon.

It was also getting bigger, her knickers no longer covered it comfortably as the tattoo expanded up her hip and onto her flank and down her leg. It had started as a light brown, hardly different than her own skin tone and now was brightening to almost white. It was a good thing she wasn't in a relationship with anyone, there was no hiding the mark now. Perhaps after the war ended she'd be able to find out who it belonged to.

* * *

When the plain script A showed up on Salazar Slytherin's right palm when he was thirty-five he frowned. It hadn't been there the day before and now there was a very faint A on his pale palm. He knew what it was, but why was it appearing now? Magical tattoos generally showed up in the teenage years, not when Sal was approaching middle-age. Frankly, he was too old for what the magical tattoo signified. He didn't have the time to deal with it, not when he was in the midst of setting up the school, so he ignored it.

When he was forty, the A began to grow and morph. No longer was it the simple plan A of five years ago. It steadily grew darker and darker, spreading from his palm, down his wrist and to the back side of his hand. That was when he decided that he needed to start trying to figure out who it belonged too.

Godric had suggested holding what amounted to a cattle call at the school. Sal had scoffed. Even if the person his tattoo matched would show up, there was a chance that they weren't even in Scotland, Wales, or England. It was nonsensical.

Rowena had suggested using Arithmancy, a primitive form of future-telling that Sal thought personally ridiculous. He'd brushed her off entirely. Rowena was brilliant, but sometimes she had insane notions.

Helga had suggested scrying. Which made Sal wonder why  _he_  hadn't thought of it. Scrying was certainly one of his specialties considering his affinity for water. Helga always was his favorite of the rest of the founders.

Scrying was an imprecise business but greatly helped when Salazar had acquired a highly polished silver mirror instead of using water. He had paid a dear price for the small piece of silver, but it made his scrying that much better. He settled his usual wards around his chamber and sat in his worn chair, the small mirror across his knees. Scrying would help him to see who the A belonged too, and perhaps where they were. Sal closed his eyes, breathing deep before opening them and beginning the chant.

* * *

Alicia had taken to carrying around the old fake DA Galleon in her pocket. Ever since reports of children disappearing at Hogwarts leaked through on Lee Jordan's Potterwatch program—Alicia, Katie, and Angelina were avid listeners. It had taken Alicia a bit to find her old coin, but she felt like it was going to come in handy.

When it started burning in her pocket late one evening in early May, something told Alicia that this was it.

"Hogwarts," Katie said breathlessly, peering around the corner into Alicia's bedroom. Old habits died hard and Alicia, Katie, and Angelina had found an apartment together in Diagon Alley. Alicia vaulted out of bed and grabbed her broom from the closet.

"Flying up there?" Katie asked.

"Nah, we should Apparate as close as we can get to Hogsmeade without setting of the Caterwauling Charms," Angelina said from behind Katie.

"That's what I was thinking," Alicia agreed. "Brooms for getting into Hogwarts from there. Think this is it?"

"I do," Angelina said with a slightly scared look.

"We three make it out, alright?" Katie said. "Whatever happens,  _we_  make it out."

Alicia nodded, swallowing hard. She knew if she said something, she might cry and none of them needed that now.

"Far side of the Shrieking Shack?" Angelina suggested.

"No," Katie shook her head. "I heard Shrieking Shack is caught up in the Caterwauling Charm. We have to go further out. Back out into the fields."

"What if we Floo into Three Broomsticks?" Alicia suggested. "I heard Madam Rosmerta was keeping it open. I'm worried we might accidentally Apparate directly into a group of Death Eaters or something."

"Doesn't hurt to try," Angelina said. They trooped to their main room and Alicia grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the pot.

"See you on the other side," Alicia flashed a quick grin before dropping the Floo powder and calling out her destination.

Thankfully, the Floo was open. Somehow, Rosmerta had managed to get it redirected to a private Floo in a back room of the establishment.

"Och, I figured people would start coming through," Rosmerta said, pulling Alicia out of the fireplace. "Caterwauling Charm went off almost an hour ago."

"It okay if more come through?" Alicia asked. Rosmerta nodded quickly as Katie tumbled through. Alicia dug through her pocket for her D.A. Galleon and quickly sent a message that the Three Broomsticks Floo was open.

The next several hours went buy in a blur as Alicia and her flatmates made it to Hogwarts and began helping with the defense of their old school.

Halfway through the night, there was a slight lull in the fighting. Alicia had gotten separated from Angelina and Katie at some point and found herself alone near the dungeons. The fighting wasn't as bad down here as it was on the higher floors, so Alicia slipped further down the stairs to find some place to rest for a few moments. She had at least one nasty gash on the back of her calf and there was something on her right shoulder she'd like to get a look at if she could. She coughed for a moment before finding a small niche hidden behind a tapestry.

Lighting a bluebell flame, Alicia tended to her injuries.

"Saw her down this way," a low voice growled from almost right outside where Alicia was hidden.

_Shit, fuck, shit,_  she chanted in her head as she tried packing up the small bit of supplies she had pulled out and put out the bluebell flame at the same time. That seemed like a mistake the moment she was plunged into complete darkness. She tried to breathe slowly in and out of her mouth, but her heart was racing and she feared that her breath was making quite the racket.

"Come on, Greyback, she's not down here. Must have given us the slip," another voice said after long moments.

"No, she's here… I smell her," Greyback replied.

There was nothing for it, she'd be ravaged by a werewolf if she stayed where she was. Alicia paused, took a huge breath and pointed her wand straight at the tapestry in front of her.  _Bombarda!_  she shouted in her mind.

A jet of red light left her wand, pierced through the tapestry and blew up the wall across the corridor from where she was hidden. It was enough of a surprise that she was able to slip out of her niche and run for the main stairs.

"There she is! Stop her!" Greyback shouted. Alicia didn't look back, she was no match for two Death Eaters, she knew that, she had to keep going. She was just steps from the main staircase when a curse hissed past her ear. She dodged left and ran smack into someone else. Alicia didn't recognize him in the dim light, but he had jet black hair tied back in a queue behind his head and he was an imposing figure in his dark green tunic.

"There you are," he breathed when his right hand settled onto her left hip. The moment his palm touched her a sense of rightness settled over her like a breath of fresh air. Her eyelids fluttered at the intense feeling of completeness.

"Stay with me," he murmured. Quickly, he turned Alicia so her back was to his chest, his right arm around her waist possessively, and a staff in his left hand, pointed directly at Greyback and who she now recognized as Yaxley. The fingertips of his right hand were just brushing along the edges of where Alicia knew that stylized S was on her hip and causing such intense feelings of both comfort and something else, something darker, but delicious that it was everything she could do to keep to her feet.

"Who the fuck are you?" Yaxley looked at the man in confusion. "And where the fuck did you come from?"

"Salazar Slytherin, at your service," the man holding Alicia said. She furrowed her brow and shook her head. She couldn't have heard him correctly, could she?

Yaxley started laughing and that's when Salazar—if that's truly who he was—blasted him with the staff. Yaxley left his feet and flew down the corridor. Greyback wasn't far behind. Then the man turned and began trotting quickly into the gloom behind them, pulling Alicia along by the hand.

"Where are we going?" Alicia asked after several moments and turns.

"My private quarters, it's clear you need some medical attention," Salazar muttered. He skidded to a stop in front of a large gargoyle. Another wave of that staff and the gargoyle jumped aside and Salazar tugged them inside.

"Looks different than it used to," Salazar said as he settled Alicia on the sofa and began digging through a bag hanging from his belt.

"Are you really Salazar Slytherin?" Alicia asked.

"Yes, of course, why would I lie about that?"

"Because you've been dead for a thousand years!" Alicia shouted.

"Och, nonsense, it's been more like 950 years," Salazar said. "And I actually don't think I died back then," he mused pulling out some herb that Alicia didn't recognize. He knelt before her and picked up her injured leg, pulling her slacks up to show the wound on the back of her calf. "I think what happened is that I 'disappeared' and showed up here."

"Here?" Alicia asked as he placed the herb on her wound. Instantly, a cooling sensation flooded her skin and some of the tightness she had been holding loosened. He pulled a long bandage from his bag and wrapped it around her wound and the herb.

"Yes, here. The future. With you," Salazar said. He glanced up at her then and offered her a smile. Alicia saw his face properly for the first time and she swore her heart stuttered. He had dark eyes, with small laugh lines at the corner, his nose was long and straight and his lips were just full enough to be kissable.

"With me?" Alicia said after a long moment.

"Yes," Salazar held up his right palm and Alicia tore her gaze from his to look at it. There was a very dark plain script A that looked very much like her own signature on his palm. It was so large, the edges were escaping his palm. She grasped his hand and turned it over, tracing the edges of the letter with her fingertips.

"Wait," she shoved his hand from her and lifted her shirt, pulling her trousers half down to show him her left hip.

He sucked in a breath and Alicia felt herself flush as she glanced up at him. His eyes were on the almost completely white stylized S on her hip. Reverently, his fingers reached out to touch it. "It's mine," he murmured, glancing up at her.

"How is this even possible?" Alicia asked shaking her head. How could her ideal mate be a man who was born over a thousand years ago?

"Magic," Salazar said with a grin. Then he pushed Alicia back onto the sofa and pressed his lips to hers. Alicia had a decent snog a time or two, but nothing that felt like what she was experiencing now. Desire swooped low and heavy in her abdomen as her hands scrabbled at his back, trying to get him to lay fully on top of her, but he resisted her.

Finally, after a long moment, he pulled away. "I believe there is still a battle raging above our heads," Salazar murmured. His forehead pressed to her own and Alicia breathed in their mingled breath for a moment.

"What is this?" Alicia asked finally.

Salazar laughed. "We can talk after the battle is won. What exactly are we fighting for?"

Alicia snorted. "We're fighting against fascism and totalitarianism. Against blood supremacy. That going to be a problem?"

Salazar narrowed his eyes for a moment. "I can get behind the anti-fascism and totalitarianism sentiment," he finally conceded.

"Good. We can work on the rest," Alicia said with a grin and a wink. Then she led him out of the Head of Slytherin's quarters and back up toward the Great Hall. She had flatmates to find and a war to help win.


	4. Water Under the Bridge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in March 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Draco Malfoy/Cormac McLaggen and Awful First Meet. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

Cormac was rushing through the door at the coffee shop. He was late for his first day of work, of all the things he'd ever fucked up, this was by far the worst. It was his dream job, working in Malfoy Industries. He'd wanted to work there since he was a child. His father had worked there and always spoke so highly of it. Cormac couldn't wait.

Luckily, the line at the coffee shop was short enough he was through it in a flash. Just as he turned from the small table offering cream, trying to juggle putting the lid on his coffee and moving at the same time, he felt his elbow collide with someone.

"Oh, fuck, sorry!" Cormac said even as he watched wide-eyed, his hand lose control of the coffee cup and tumble down the front of the stranger he had just run into.

"Fucking hell," the other man muttered testily, shaking his hands as Cormac's sticky brew covered him.

"Shit, sorry!" Cormac said again, turning to grab some napkins. He dabbed rather ineffectually at the other man's rock hard stomach, not even daring to look at him in the eye. Why was he such a fuck up? And this was only going to make him later. He chanced a look up and his heart fell.

Draco Malfoy was glaring down at him. He pushed Cormac's hands away angrily. "Don't fucking bother. Suits ruined now," Draco said as he turned on his heel and stormed out of the coffee shop.

Oh, fuck, oh, shit. Cormac was fucked. Should he even bother showing up to his job now? Surely, he'd be fired the moment he walked through the door, right?

But he couldn't just not show up. Giving up mopping up his spilled coffee as a bad job, Cormac practically ran for the door. He hustled to Malfoy Industries a few doors down and made it to the reception desk only five minutes later than he was told to be there.

The receptionist was an airy looking woman who smiled at him and led him to a conference room to begin orientation. Cormac was glad that there were four others who were hired that day. He could hopefully hide in the crowd. It wasn't like the owner's son would be speaking at new hire orientation after all.

* * *

Cormac hated how wrong he was when for the last session of the day, Draco Malfoy, in a different suit, walked through the door and to the lectern at the front of the room. Cormac slouched in his seat, hoping that Draco wouldn't recognize him, but it was for not. His eyes narrowed when they landed on Cormac, but he didn't say anything. As Draco spoke, Cormac found himself relaxing just a little.

After Draco's talk, Cormac stayed sitting as the others in the room popped up to crowd around Draco and ask him questions. Cormac stood uncertainly, unsure of what to do. Should he rush out? Should he even bother coming back tomorrow? The day had gone so well.

"McLaggen, right?" a posh voice asked and Cormac looked up from his shoes to see Draco standing before him, completely self-assured. Cormac straightened his spine and stuck out his hand.

"Cormac McLaggen, sir. And about this morning, I'm so terribl—"

Draco laughed, taking Cormac aback. "It's fine. Just some spilled coffee."

Cormac's eyes widened and he held his breath. He didn't know what to do, what was expected of him. Draco Malfoy was gorgeous and Cormac had a crush on him as long as he'd wanted to work for Malfoy Industries. And here Cormac had done the unthinkable and—

"Hey, seriously, it's alright," Draco said, laying a hand on Cormac's arm. "It's just a little spilled coffee. Sure, I was angry at the time, but it's all water under the bridge now." Draco gave him a charming smile.

"Right," Cormac said with a nod. "Again, so sorry."

Draco grinned at him. "Come on, you'll be in my division, I'll show you around."

Cormac followed Draco out of the room and knew that he was in so much trouble.

**_~Fin~_ **


	5. Pure Magic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in April 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Lucius Malfoy/Ron Weasley and Magical Tattoos. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

_Lucius_

The first time Lucius Malfoy's tattoo tingled he ignored it. Obviously, he was just feeling things or hallucinating. It had been nothing but a mark on his left hip for over thirty years. If he was meant to be with someone else, it would have tingled before now.

The second time, he frowned and since he was alone, he undressed and looked at it. Magical tattoos were interesting. There were some, like the Dark Mark, that did specific things. Others, like the one he got, signified a mate. The one true match for a witch or wizard. Lucius had gotten his a sixteen, like all good purebloods. He stared at the small ornate Malfoy coat of arms. It didn't look any different, but the tingling was back. He pressed his finger to it and it stopped for a moment, before the sensation was back, even more intense. Could it be? After all this time?

He had resigned himself to living his life with Narcissa, he had grown to love her over the years, even though, he knew she wasn't his match. He thought it was fine, Narcissa didn't have a match either. At least, she claimed to not have a match. Her tattoo of the Black family coat of arms had never tingled once in her life, she said.

So what could have caused it now? It was perplexing. Could his mate be a teenage witch? The idea disgusted him. Could someone older have gotten the tattoo? Not everyone got them. Must Muggle-borns probably didn't even know about them. And yet, here he was, a fifty-five-year-old man, and his magical tattoo was tingling. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

* * *

_Ron_

The minute Ron Weasley had received his tattoo it began tingling.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Ron asked. He wanted to scratch at the spot on his bicep that the tattoo artist had just finished up with. He'd gotten the standard magical tattoo that all of the swankiest purebloods got when they turned sixteen. Ron hadn't had the money when he was sixteen to get it, so here was at twenty-nine, getting the Weasley coat of arms on his bicep.

"Do what, love?" she asked with a small, secret smile.

"Tingle. It tingles! Why is it doing that?" Ron asked the urge to itch was becoming overwhelming.

The tattoo artist laughed. "Only if you have a soulmate out there with a magical tattoo. Do you?"

Ron felt sick to his stomach. Hermione, his wife, did not have a magical tattoo. Hermione wasn't his soulmate. Had he expected her to be? With how much they were arguing recently?

He paid his Galleons and sulked off to a bar in Knockturn Alley. He didn't want to talk to anyone, and in Knockturn Alley, the bar patrons left everyone alone.

He was on his third pint when he was bowled over with the knowledge that whoever his soulmate was, she was in the vicinity. He looked around frantically and dropped his glass of ale to the floor when he spotted who stood in the doorway of the establishment, staring daggers at him.

"Bloody fucking Merlin," Ron breathed as Lucius Malfoy stalked through the room. Ron had never been so hard in his entire life, as he watched the older man move.

"It's you, isn't it?" Malfoy sneered, looking at Ron as if he were something particularly nasty from the bottom of his shoe.

"Uh...what?" Ron asked. He lost focus as he watched Malfoy's lips move. Merlin, the man was breathtaking.

"Let me guess," Malfoy drawled, eyeing him up and down. "You were too poor to get it when you were sixteen. You were feeling down, marriage isn't going well, wife's a harpy, kids are always fighting, so as a pick-me-up you decide to go get a magical tattoo. Does it tingle  _very_  much, Weasley?"

"How do you know?" Ron whispered. They were standing in the middle of a seedy bar in Knockturn Alley and every person in the bar was watching them. Some more surreptitiously than others.

"Come with me," Malfoy growled and grabbed Ron by the bicep. The one with the tattoo. Ron yelped as Lucius dropped a bag of Galleons on the bar and barked for a room. The barkeep tossed him a key and Malfoy caught it, then dragged Ron up the grimy, back stairs and shoved him into an even grimier room.

"Disgusting," Malfoy sneered as he looked about the space. He cast a few privacy spells and suddenly, Ron wondered if he should be worried. Malfoy was a former Death Eater after all. His breath caught as Malfoy glared at him once more. "Well, let's see it then."

Ron opened and shut his mouth. Did Malfoy just proposition him? What on earth did he think was going to happen here?

"The tattoo, you fool," Malfoy spat. Realization dawned over Ron and he looked down as he felt his face redden. He shrugged off his robes and stripped his jumper off, standing only in his undershirt, he held his left bicep so Malfoy could see it. The tattoo was brand new and still red at the edges. It tingled more than ever, it was almost painful with how much sensation it was giving off.

Ron couldn't meet Malfoy's gaze, not when he thought the man had been coming on to him and so he didn't realize that Malfoy had lifted a hand, taken off the glove and touched his tattoo. Not until a wave of pleasure swept through him so intensely he almost fell to his knees.

"Bloody hell," Ron grunted as he glanced sharply at his arm. Malfoys index finger was tracing the outline of the Weasley family crest. Malfoy's lip was curled, disdain and disgust clear on his face and all Ron wanted to do was snog the sneer off his face.

"How does it feel?" Malfoy asked, his voice was huskier than Ron had been expecting. Perhaps, Malfoy wasn't as unaffected as he appeared.

"Fucking amazing," Ron replied. Malfoy pulled his finger away abruptly and Ron realized that he was harder than he'd been in his entire life. And all Malfoy had done was touch his bicep. Holy Godric, he was so fucked.

* * *

_Lucius_

The look on Weasley's face had hardened Lucius's cock faster than he thought possible at his age. He looked to be in bliss. Is this what having a soulmate was like? This constant feeling of arousal? Lucius wasn't sure he'd be able to survive it, if so. When he stepped away from Weasley, he was breathing hard. They both were if Lucius was honest with himself.

"I want to see yours," Weasley stated, looking up at him with bright blue eyes. Lucius swallowed sharply and nodded. He slid out of his robes and set them across the chair, it looked marginally cleaner than the bed or floor. It took him only a moment to pull his shirt from his trousers, although the trousers came up too high for Weasley to see the tattoo and Lucius cursed its placement when he realized he would have to unbutton them at least partially in order for the tattoo to be visible. He did so quickly and shoved both his shirt up and trousers down so that the Malfoy crest appeared on his hip bone.

Malfoy watched Weasly carefully, who seemed to be entranced by the sight in front of him. Slowly, he reached a finger out to touch Lucius's tattoo. Lucius understood the impulse. He hadn't been able to stop himself from touching Weasley's after all. He hissed as skin met skin and his cock twitched. If Weasley were to only move his hand a few inches…

Lucius pursed his lips, that was unproductive. He didn't know what it meant, that two married men were matched as soulmates. He imagined years of carrying on affairs in swanky hotel rooms and went almost light-headed at the thought. He did not want to hurt Narcissa, but he knew there was no way he was going to be able to stay away from Weasley.

Suddenly, Weasley's hand was right where Lucius wanted and he groaned as his eyes rolled back up in his head. Weasley had slipped his hand inside Lucius's trousers and was cupping his cock through his shorts. He breathed out heavily, his nostrils flaring.

"Weas—"

"I can't believe how much I like this," Weasley muttered, cutting him off. He used his other hand to shove Lucius' trousers down below his hips and then suddenly his shorts were down too and Lucius's cock was out and standing proud as Weasley gripped him, running his hand slowly up and down his shaft. Nothing Narcissa had ever done for him in their thirty years of marriage felt like this. It was pure magic.

"I want to touch you," Lucius finally managed. Weasley looked up at him sharply, almost as if he were startled. He nodded and soon hands were everywhere as they each undressed the other. Weasley stood an inch or so taller than Lucius and he had the long cock to match. Had someone asked Lucius a day ago what he thought of red pubic hair he would have laughed. But it seemed to fit Weasley somehow and the sight didn't disgust him, but rather made his cock leak.

When Lucius took too long to actually touch Weasley, Weasley reached out his free hand and helped Lucius wrap his hand around the other man's cock. It was so similar to his own, and yet completely different. It was heavy, and silky smooth in his hand. He tightened his grip, and Weasley gasped, shuffling his feet closer to Lucius, settling his free hand on Lucius's hip.

It wasn't long until they found a rhythm, their cocks between them, each fisting the others. Lucius couldn't take his eyes from the sight in front of him. The way that freckled hand worked him over, the way his own, strong hand tugged and pulled at another man's cock. It was exhilarating.

A few moments more and Weasley was groaning as he spilled his load over Lucius's hand. Lucius was enthralled by the sight of that pearlescent essence coating their bare skin. It was enough to send him over the edge of his own orgasm. He cried out as he came, his free hand, draped across Weasley's shoulder, using the strength of the younger man to hold him up.

"That was…" Weasley trailed off.

"Yes," Lucius agreed, trying to regulate his breathing.

"Now what?"

"I have no idea," Lucius snorted. "But I've not felt like that before," he admitted reluctantly.

"Me neither," Weasley agreed. "I'll owl you?"

"Alright," Lucius whispered and a moment later he was alone in the grimy rented room feeling bereft. More bereft than he thought he had a right to feel.

_**~Fin~** _


	6. Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in May 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Draco Malfoy/Neville Longbottom and Hurt/Comfort. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut.**
> 
>  
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

"Shit," Neville cursed as he limped along the corridor. He'd been caught out by the Carrows and was trying to make his way back to the Room of Requirement. Despite having been caught out, he still had his haul from the kitchens. It would be enough to get them through the next few days, at least. He wished he could get some of the younger students out of the castle entirely, but that seemed like wishful thinking at this point.

"Fuck," he muttered again as he felt more blood slide down his leg and squelch in his shoe. He certainly wasn't being very quiet. He could only hope that he wouldn't run into someone worse than the Carrows. Although, who that would be, Neville couldn't imagine right then.

"Who's there?" a voice shouted.

Neville almost cried. Not in relief, but in frustration. That was Draco Malfoy and he was worse than the Carrows. Or rather, just as bad. Malfoy might not curse him, but he'd sure as hell go get the Carrows and Neville wasn't sure he'd survive a double-dose of them that night.

There was no possibility of hiding. Neville was exhausted, half-starving, and losing blood. He shuffled forward, the confrontation inevitable and leaving a sour taste in the back of his mouth.

"State your name!" Malfoy snapped.

"It's me, Longbottom," Neville coughed. Blood dribbled from his mouth and Neville knew that meant something was bleeding inside. That was definitely not good. Hopefully Ginny would be in the Room of Requirement by the time he got there. She was rather handy at healing. Or would be able to sneak down and get Madam Pomfrey.

"Longbottom?" Malfoy asked, finally stepping around the corner. The light at the end of Malfoy's wand almost blinded Neville. He winced and squinted his eyes, never stopping his slow, squelching shuffle.

"Holy Salazar," Malfoy breathed once he caught full sight of Neville. "What the fuck happened to you?"

"The Carrows. What do you think?" Neville asked. He started shivering. It felt like the castle had dropped at least twenty degrees. Was that from the blood loss? Or had Dementors been let in somehow? Neville wasn't sure he could tell.

"Fuck," Malfoy grunted as he rushed forward at the same time that the floor started rushing to meet Neville's face. Malfoy caught him just before he hit the floor and the two boys slid down together in an awkward tangle of limbs. "They got you good, huh?"

Neville tried to laugh but coughed instead. Spitting up more blood.

"That's not good," Malfoy whispered, seeing it collect on the stone floor.

"Get me to the Room of Requirement," Neville whispered. "Ginny can heal it."

"We're four floors from the Room of Requirement," Malfoy hissed. "We'll never make it." He stood then and hauled Neville upright, looping an arm under Neville's. "There's an empty classroom just ahead."

Neville helped as much as he could, but it seemed like his legs weren't working properly. And good Merlin, everything hurt. Especially the cut at the back of his thigh that was still leaking blood into his shoe. Once they were in the classroom, Malfoy transfigured the teachers' desk into a low cot and helped Neville onto it. Then he stood and did some complicated wandwork near the door. Neville hoped that meant he was setting wards and not summoning the Carrows to finish him off.

He didn't have the wherewithal to try and figure out what Malfoy's motive was. Everything had boiled down to the next breath. To not moving so as to keep the pain at a slightly tolerable level instead of a completely unbearable one.

"I could go get Pomfrey," Malfoy whispered as he knelt next to the makeshift cot.

Neville shook his head. "Carrows would find me there," he muttered.

Malfoy nodded and began chanting something that Neville couldn't quite catch. But it felt like the wound on his thigh was closing. That was good. Neville closed his eyes for a bit.

* * *

When he woke up, hours had gone by. Sunlight was streaming through the window and Malfoy was asleep, his hand holding Neville's.

"Fuck," Neville groaned as he tried to move.

"Can't move yet," Malfoy muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with his free hand. His icy grey eyes widened at seeing their clasped hands, but he showed no other reaction. It wasn't as if Neville was the one who had reached out for Malfoy's hand.

"Why?" Neville asked, his voice was hoarse. He wanted to know why Malfoy had helped him. He  _needed_  to know.

"Because you've broken half a dozen ribs," Malfoy snapped. "I had to sneak down into the hospital wing for some Skele-Gro. You'll have to stay like this most of the day."

Neville groaned and closed his eyes. "I can't. I have to get to the Room of Requirement." He took a big breath, even that hurt, and tried to swing his legs over the side of the cot to stand, but only one leg moved and it only twitched. "What the fuck is wrong with my legs?" Neville hissed.

Malfoy's lips thinned and he glared at Neville. "In addition to the six broken ribs, you had a piece of flesh the size of a pound taken out of your left thigh and your right knee cap was shattered. You aren't going anywhere for at least a day. Probably more like three."

"There's food in that bag," Neville muttered, gesturing to the bag he had been carrying that was left near the door of the classroom. "It needs to go behind the tapestry of the trolls dancing ballet on the seventh floor. Ginny will find it."

"Fine. But first, here," Malfoy handed him two potion bottles. "One is for general pain relief. The other is another blood-replenishing potion. You lost a lot. Both should help you sleep some more."

"How did you get good at healing?" Neville asked as Malfoy helped lift his head and poured the pain relief potion into his mouth.

"The Gryffindors aren't the only ones who have been at the wrong end of the Carrows wands," Malfoy murmured. "I also want to be a Healer after Hogwarts. After all...this."

Neville nodded and once he'd taken the blood-replenishment potion he was sleepy enough that he barely registered Malfoy leaving the room.

* * *

The next time Neville woke, it was dark. Malfoy was still there, which was a relief. And it didn't hurt nearly as bad when he shifted his position in the cot. Apparently, Malfoy was a light sleeper because the moment Neville moved, he was awake and watching him. It made Neville shiver the way those grey eyes watched him so closely.

"I think you'll be able to go by morning," Malfoy whispered.

"Thanks," Neville said. "For this and for dropping off the food. It's more needed then you know."

"I know," Malfoy said bitterly. "I also put a few potions in with the food. For healing."

Neville's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"You know why," Malfoy said, turning his head and refusing to look at Neville. Neville reached out a hand and touched Malfoy's cheek, the other boy turned toward him.

"Thank you," Neville said. He didn't understand Malfoy.  _He_  didn't know why, but he was grateful nonetheless.

When Malfoy's eyes darted to Neville's lips, he felt like he finally understood. He propped himself up on his left elbow, his right hand still cupping Malfoy's cheek. That's when Malfoy understood and leaned toward him. His beautiful eyes fluttering closed as Neville pressed their lips together. The sparks, the comfort, the rightness. Finally, they both understood.

**~Fin~**


	7. Heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in June 2019. My Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Theo Nott/Fred Weasley and Soulmates. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

It was a tough thing, learning who your soulmate was. Tougher still when you found out they were on the opposite side of the war that was brewing. Theo Nott learned the hard way. His father had either never known his soulmate or they had died before Thoros Nott could meet them. That was Theo's conjecture anyway because his father was a cruel bastard. To Theo. To Theo's mum when she had been alive to everyone.

So when Theo discovered his soulmate, he decided to not act on it. To pretend that it never happened. His father wouldn't accept Theo's soulmate. Ever. Not only was he a wizard, but also, a Weasley. It wasn't until Theo was a fourth year that he happened to touch Fred Weasley on accident while passing through a hallway. Fred stopped in his tracks and looked at Theo. Theo ignored him and kept going even as heat flooded his hand where it had grazed against Fred's.

The pure pleasure, that touching his soulmate almost caused Theo to falter, but he had been raised better than that.

"Fred?" his twin questioned. Theo was halfway down the hall and barely heard as Fred turned back to his brother to answer.

Three days later, Fred Weasley tracked him down.

"Theo Nott, right?" he asked, cornering Theo in the disused classroom he preferred to study in. It was quieter than the library and it meant that none of the younger Slytherins would ask him for help.

"That's right," Theo muttered, still writing on his parchment. Hopefully, Weasley would get the picture and leave. He didn't.

"You're my soulmate," Fred stated baldly.

Theo finally looked up at him to glare. "Doesn't matter. Nothing can come of it."

"It matters to me!" Weasley said.

"Well, it doesn't to me," Theo stated coldly. Even if it  _did_  matter to Theo, his father wouldn't allow it. His father had already signed a betrothal contract to some witch who went to Durmstrang that Theo had never met before.

Weasley glared at him and stormed from the room. Theo breathed a sigh of relief.

When Fred found him two weeks later, Theo had almost forgotten the whole incident. But Weasley seemed determined not to let that happen. This time, he yanked Theo behind a tapestry as he was walking down the hall and pressed him into the small alcove behind it. Fred was taller than him by at least two inches and Theo was breathing heavily. Fred had his entire body pressed against Theo's and it was  _burning_.

"Feel it?" Fred asked, running his nose along Theo's cheek. And  _Merlin_ , did Theo feel it. His heart raced and goose flesh broke out along his back. He shivered as Fred pressed his lips to Theo's. For a long moment, Theo didn't reciprocate the kiss, but then Fred's tongue tapped against his lower lip and he groaned as his mouth opened to Fred's plundering tongue. Fred's hands were everywhere and it was all Theo could do to hold on to Fred's shoulders as he was ravished.

"Still think it doesn't matter?" Fred whispered, breaking the kiss.

Theo groaned and hit his head against the wall behind him. "Of course, it bloody matters, Weasley. But you don't get it. You don't know my father.  _He_  will make sure that it doesn't matter. He'll  _kill_  you if he finds out who you are."

"I don't care," Fred said and kissed him again. Theo was quite sure that was the moment he fell in love.

As torturous as finding out who his soulmate was, it was worse when he found out that he'd died. The war was over. Theo's father was dead. He should be celebrating. Literally, everyone else was celebrating. Theo stared at Fred's body in the Great Hall. He was surrounded by his family and friends and yet, he looked so alone.

"You should join them," Draco muttered. Theo cut his eyes to his friend.

"You aren't supposed to know about it," Theo hissed.

"Except that I do. You should go."

Theo shook his head, ignoring Draco and moved to the far corner of the room. He was closer to Fred that way but also hidden in the shadows of a fallen column. It allowed Theo to grieve in privacy. At least for a while.

Theo had his face pressed to his knees and was attempting to keep his sobs under control when someone else spoke to him.

"He loved you, you know."

Theo looked up and felt his face crumple. It was the twin, George. He was missing an ear but otherwise looked exactly like Fred.

"Yeah, that's what looking in a mirror feels like to me," George said quietly as he slid down the wall at Theo's side.

"I don't know if I can survive this," Theo whispered. "I had meant to never let it get like this. I didn't want him to ever feel the wrath of my father, but…"

"You can survive it. You have to. Same way I have to," George replied, laying his head on Theo's shoulder. It felt like Fred, it sounded like Fred, but it wasn't Fred and Theo's heart broke further.

_**~Fin~** _


	8. The Dancer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Written for Draco's Den Roll-a-Drabble Prompt in July 2019. I somehow luckboxed this month and my Roll-a-Drabble prompts were: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger & Mistaken Identity. No beta other than Grammarly. Will be updating these for each month that I do them. They will have a variety of pairings, but all are starring a Slytherin. Ratings will be a solid M for curse words and possible smut.**
> 
> **If you liked this or hated it, drop me a line in a review! Find me on Tumblr at crochetawayhpff.**

Draco's vision was blurred for sure, but he could swear that the dancer was Granger. She even  _moved_  like Granger moved. Although, the idea of Granger being a dancer in a Muggle strip club was, quite frankly, laughable. The beat of the music thumped through him as he squinted at the woman on the stage.

"Is that…?" he trailed off as the dancer swung her distinctly not bushy hair around in a circle in front of her. It was a dark, chocolaty brown. Much darker than Granger's own hair. He shook his head. "Couldn't be."

"Couldn't be what, mate?" Blaise asked, slinging his arm around Draco's shoulders. Draco had a feeling it was more to keep himself upright than it was a show of camaraderie. Blaise definitely didn't like Draco enough to touch him voluntarily. At least not when he was sober. But right now, none of them were sober.

"Granger," Draco mumbled as the dancer slid down the pool. He wanted to study her face, but the way she was opening and closing her knees and gyrating her hips, he couldn't stop himself from looking at the itsy bitsy piece of cloth covering her cunt.

Blaise laughed so hard he fell off his chair. "Good one, mate!"

Draco frowned, tearing his eyes away from the tantalizing glimpse of snatch and forcing himself to look at her face. She had her gaze focused behind him and was biting her lower lip. Draco didn't necessarily want to lust after a Muggle, but if this Muggle really  _was_  Granger then that would be alright, wouldn't it?

Thinking was becoming harder the more he drank. He eyed the small table before them and saw at least two empty vodka bottles. Merlin, that stuff went down  _much_  easier than Firewhisky ever did.

The dancer finished her dance and flashed Draco's group of friends a wink as she left the stage to catcallers.

"Give it up for the Lioness!" the DJ shouted over the speaker system. "If you're interested in a private dance, she'll be available for the next hour."

Draco stood, stumbling toward the stand next to the stage where private dances were requested.

"Where are you going?" Blaise called from behind him, but Draco just waved his hand at his pseudo-friend and kept going. He had to know. Granger hadn't been seen in almost three years, and if this was where she ended up…? Well, then Draco would have quite the scoop, wouldn't he?

"The Lioness still available?" Draco slurred. The man in the booth looked him up and down and shook his head.

"She is, but she don't take drunk clients," he replied, flicking his wrist. "Come back some other night when you aren't so… sloshed." The heavy disdain made Draco frowned and he flipped him the two-fingered salute.

Within moments, he was tossed out of the club and landing on the pavement on his backside. "Banned for at least a month," a burly bouncer that would have given Goyle a run for his money growled.

"Yeah, yeah," Draco muttered, picking himself up off the pavement. It wasn't the first time he'd been tossed from a club, it certainly wouldn't be the last. He still wanted to figure out if the Lioness was Granger or not but recognized he was too drunk to do much about it tonight. The Lioness, even her stage name was reminiscent of Granger. The quintessential Gryffindor.

Weaving his way around the other denizens of London, Draco slowly made his way home. He'd go back to that club eventually. Then he'd solve his mystery.

* * *

Hermione thanked Raul as she left. "I know he was drunk, but still. He and anyone he was with are on my list."

"I got you," Raul said in his American accent. "Don't you worry, baby girl. Ain't none of them prissy boys getting past me."

Hermione grinned and thanked him again before ducking out the side door of the club.

She hadn't meant to become a stripper, it just sort of happened. She'd been attending Muggle university, which her parents had reluctantly agreed to pay for. Had Hermione known the amount of debt they were in, she would have refused. As it was, now six years after she'd started university she still wasn't finished. Her parents had died in her second year leaving Hermione nothing but a house and a pile of bills. The sale of the house had barely covered the bills and the Grangers had not had a funeral service. Hermione couldn't afford it and she was the only family left to attend such a thing.

So stripping had saved her and had let her continue her schooling, although at a  _much_  slower pace than she normally would have chosen. The biggest issue was the hours. Stripping happened late at night. Hermione's shift usually didn't even begin until ten or eleven. Then she danced until four. That only left four or five hours before her first class the next morning. It was an almost unsustainable lifestyle. So much so, she was down to taking one class each semester.

Now she only had two more semesters to go and she would have her degree and hopefully be able to find a job in her field. The decision to leave the wizarding world entirely hadn't been a conscious one, and she still used magic, although much less often than she would have otherwise. But after her parents died, she'd drifted from Ron and Harry and with nobody to tie her to that world, she found it easier to live amongst the Muggles. Also, there were just so many more Muggles than wizards that she could do something like strip, and still be rather anonymous.

Hermione sighed as she entered her flat and the sun began to rise. At least she didn't have class that morning. And hopefully, with the ban, Malfoy and his gang wouldn't be back to that particular club anytime soon.

* * *

Hermione's luck didn't hold out. It never did. At least, she still had her stage makeup on. Perhaps if she affected an accent, Malfoy would assume she wasn't Hermione Granger.

"Granger," he murmured, following her as she left the back door of the club.

"You talking to me?" she asked in her best New York accent. It sounded terrible and she was sure she wouldn't be able to keep it up.

"That is a terrible fake accent," Malfoy said walking beside her.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Hermione replied. "I do know that following me from the club is grounds for a permanent ban." Her accent was slipping and she sped up to try and outpace him.

"Granger," Malfoy said, reaching out and gripping her above the elbow. Hermione stopped short and whirled around to face him.

"I told you. I don't know no Granger." That came out entirely in a posh British queen's accent and Hermione bit her lip to keep from cursing.

"See, that lip bite you're doing? I know a girl who used to do that," Malfoy said. He was slowly backing her up against the brick wall of a building and Hermione hissed when her back hit the wall. "She was fucking brilliant, beautiful," his free hand slid a strand of her dyed, straightened hair out of her face, "looks an awful lot like you. Even with that clown make-up on."

"I don't know who you are talking about," Hermione hissed, yanking on her arm. And she didn't. Sure, Malfoy thought she was Granger, and she was, but he would  _never_  describe her as beautiful.

"Sure you do, Granger," Malfoy smiled at her and stepped back, releasing her arm. She shouldered past him and ran down the street, hoping he wouldn't catch up. By the time she reached her flat, she was out of breath, but Malfoy was nowhere in sight.

* * *

Malfoy accosted her a week later. Hermione frowned. She was going to have to tell Raul or Joe at the club. Technically, he wasn't a patron, as he'd been banned and hadn't been back, but she couldn't allow this to continue.

"I gave you a pass last week," Hermione hissed as he fell into step next to her, "but I'm going to have to report you now."

"Report me? To whom? The stripper police?" Malfoy laughed cruelly and Hermione whirled on him.

"What the fuck do you want? Hmm? Just here to torment me? I don't know this Granger person, and if I did, I'd tell her to run away from a poncy prick like you."

"Why are you lying to me?" Malfoy asked. "What are you running from? What are you hiding from?"

"Nothing," Hermione lied, "because I'm not who you think I am."

"Oh, I think you are," Malfoy said. He snatched up her left arm and pushed her coat and jumper sleeve up. Her ugly Mudblood scar shone clearly, even in the dim streetlights. "How many Muggles have this, I wonder?" His smile was cruel and Hermione ripped her arm from him, shoving him in the shoulders. He rocked back on his heels but otherwise didn't move.

"What the fuck do you want?" Hermione hissed.

"Just wanted to confirm what I already knew," Malfoy grinned.

Hermione pressed her wand to his neck in a flash and was pleased when Malfoy's grin turned into a snarl.

" _Accio_  wand," Hermione hissed and slipped the wand that landed in her opposite hand into her coat pocket.

"Give me my wand back, Granger," Malfoy growled.

"I don't think so," Hermione said. "This is how this is going to go. You are going to take an Unbreak—"

"Fuck if I will," Malfoy said sullenly.

"—able Vow. Once that is done, you can have your wand go back."

"No."

"Fine. Then I'll Obliviate you. I'm a bit rusty, but I've always been handy with a spell."

"Damnit, Granger!" Malfoy shouted, backing me into a wall again. Hermione allowed it, not wanting to make a scene, not that there were that many people out and about at four in the morning. Perhaps, she allowed it because she knew she wasn't really going to Obliviate anyone.

"I just want to be left alone," Hermione said, her shoulders sagging, the wand dipping toward Malfoy's chest. He took advantage and plucked it right out of her fingers, tucking it away out of sight.

"Tell me why you're hiding in the Muggle world. Tell me why you've become a stripper," Malfoy demanded.

"It's none of your business," Hermione muttered. "My life shouldn't matter to you this much and it's weird that it does."

"It doesn't," Malfoy insisted. "I just want to know why."

Hermione turned her head, unwilling to look at him as she thought about her parents and the mess they left her in. The ache for them was still there, despite their strained relationship at the end. The ache of not having anybody, not having people to rely on, was probably stronger than the ache of not having her parents. Which made the guilt well up. Her lip trembled and she tried to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat, but when the first tear escaped and a sob followed, she tried to push past him, but he wasn't allowing that.

"Fuck, I didn't mean to make you cry, Granger," Malfoy muttered, pressing her further into the building. A handkerchief appeared from nowhere, and Hermione used it to dry her eyes, willing the tears away.

"What do you think could have possibly happened that I'm hiding in the Muggle world and dancing for money?" Hermione's voice was hoarse. "My parents are dead, obviously. Harry, Ron and I had a falling out. There was nothing to keep me there."

"Shit," Malfoy cursed, looking ashamed. Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes.

"Did you think it was going to be some big mystery? You're terribly naïve."

"Well, if it's money you need—"

"Don't you dare finish that fucking sentence!" Hermione shouted. "I  _don't_  need your fucking charity and I  _don't_  need your help." She shoved at his shoulders again and this time he did back up. Hermione gave him one last glare before whirling away.

It wasn't until she got to her flat that she realized she still had his wand. And that he had hers.

* * *

"Come on, just give me my wand back," Malfoy said, catching up to her a week later as she left the club. "Yours works like shit for me."

"Yours works excellent for me," Hermione said. She wasn't even lying, although she knew she was goading him. "Perhaps even better than my own. Which isn't actually mine you know. Not my original one."

"Who's is it?" Malfoy asked, pulling out the dark, walnut wand.

"Bellatrix's," Hermione replied. "Probably why it works like shit for you. Took me ages to get it to work."

"Fuck, why wouldn't you have gotten a new one?" Malfoy asked. He looked disgusted and Hermione laughed.

"It wasn't that important. And since it worked…" she shrugged as she trailed off. Plucking it from her fingers, she dug his out of her coat pocket and handed it to him. "Now that's done, why don't you bugger off to where you came from."

Malfoy frowned. "You don't appreciate the walk back to your flat?"

Scowling, Hermione shook her head. "You are deluded if you think you are walking me to my flat. We inevitably argue, and I run away. Alone."

"Maybe we should practice not arguing," Malfoy suggested, sticking his hands in his trouser pockets.

"What are you on about?" Hermione asked. "We always argue. It's our M.O. We've been doing it since we were children."

"What's and M.O.?"

Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes. "A Muggle saying, it's not important. Please, just leave me alone."

* * *

By the tenth week, Hermione had stopped asking Malfoy to leave her alone and actually found herself enjoying their talks. They hadn't argued since swapping wands back and Malfoy was actually a decent conversationalist when he wasn't hammered. After the fourth week, she had assumed he'd give up eventually, but now she was wondering why he hadn't yet. What could he possibly get out of this? She found she didn't have the courage to ask him.

* * *

Three months later, Hermione pushed Malfoy against a wall and snogged him senseless. He hadn't been expecting it, but Hermione was quite sick of the gentlemanly act he was putting it on. It had taken her far longer than she wanted to admit, but she had finally caught on to what exactly Malfoy hoped to get out of walking her home from the club. He'd started out doing it once a week, but when he figured out her schedule, he was there every night she was. Hermione had never told him her schedule, and she assumed he'd shown up on nights she unexpectedly had off, but if she was working her usual shift, he was always there to walk her home.

"Fucking finally," Malfoy murmured, his hands were tangled in her hair as he trailed his lips along her jaw.

"You could have made a move," Hermione insisted, as she slipped one hand down his stomach, heading for the hard length she could feel pressed against her stomach.

Draco hummed his agreement and tilted her head back, he looked her in the eyes for a long moment and Hermione bit her lip as she stared back. His gaze was full of some emotion Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to identify when he slipped his eyes closed and pressed his lips to hers once more. She cried out as he spun them in a circle and Apparated them to the doorstep of her flat. Fumbling for her wand, Hermione opened the door and invited him in for the first time.

**_~Fin~_ **


End file.
